Breathe again
by VervainAndRoses
Summary: Strange how after months of waiting those last moments were the most agonizing.


Strange how after months of waiting those last moments were the most agonizing.

There are no words for the fear I felt when I didn't see Francis riding at the front with my uncle as he should have been, as nobles do. Fear clawed its way up my throat and a dread so far unknown to me began to take over my whole body. I thought I'd be sick. I pushed through the crowd, straining my eyes and searching for a head of blond hair and finding none. I thought something had happened to him, I thought he was dead. And even entertaining the idea that I'd never see him again had the power to send me crashing to my knees.

But then I saw him…riding near the back, next to the other soldiers, one of them. Muddy and disheveled but in one piece and the happiness that flooded my system almost left me breathless, even as I felt like I could finally breathe again. He dismounted his horse as soon as he saw me and he ran more than walked toward me, but it still couldn't be fast enough. I met him halfway, our lips crashing together desperately, even if our smiles almost complicated our kiss.

"You came back." I told him, breathless, my fingers touching his face and his hair and his shoulders as if to make sure he was truly here. That this wasn't another one of my dreams that I woke up in tears from after realizing they weren't true and the space beside me was empty. I pressed my forehead to his, reveling in the fact that he'd returned to me. And then King Henry announced the Queen of England was dead, and called my husband and my uncle aside to discuss the battle that passed and the battles to come, which made my blood run cold and cut our reunion short. I let him go as if it pained me so, and it did. My fingertips almost hurt with the desire to touch him again.

That was nearly two hours ago. I've paced the castle relentlessly ever since, waiting for word from a pageboy or one of my ladies that they have finished their meeting, to which I was not allowed in. The wait for him to come back, the agonizing worry is finally over, and we still have to remain apart. I resent the King then, mad or not, for keeping my husband from me. I resent everything that keep us apart, even the very air between us. When I finally get word from a pageboy, I sprint to our bedchambers, mindless of the people staring at me and bowing as I pass. I've been without him for so long, it won't be a second longer if I can't help it.

I walk in on him changing from his under armor clothes, his back to me. I stop in my tracks, not making my presence known, not yet. It almost feels unreal that he's here again, where he belongs. His dirty boots rests at the foot of our bed, and I can't help but smile at the mud his footprints have left on our floor tiles. He's truly back. I take a second to thank God for hearing my prayers and returning my husband to me.

He pulls his soiled shirt from his frame with a quiet groan, and I'm shocked at what I'm sure it's blood that stains it in several places. The dirt of the road still clings to him, and I spy at what might be a fresh scar or two in his otherwise perfect skin. I take a step toward him and he turns to me then, hearing my heels click on the floor. But he just stands there, looking at me. I finally get a chance to study his face properly. His blond curls that I love to run my fingers through are a mess and seem matted and unwashed; his beard is not trimmed but coarse from days unshaven. There are purple bags under his eyes. His appearance is unkempt, and I'm not used to it, but nonetheless I get the urge to kiss every single part of his body. He looks like a tired man, like a man who has fought like hell to come back home.

"Mary…" He looks me at longingly, not sure if he should come closer or not I suppose. We were ecstatic in the courtyard earlier, but we didn't say goodbye in the best of circumstances. And we've been apart for so long. The space between us feels strange, as though we're still a thousand miles away.

"Hello stranger." I say, half-joking, my voice trembling despite myself. He does seem like a different person. I can see his arms are ticker with muscle, his shoulders broader and rippling with a strength that was always beneath the surface but now is clear to the naked eye. He looks so much stronger, older, like a different man than the young prince I let go months ago.

But his eyes are the same. The same bright blue eyes that had glinted with mischievousness when we were children as we shared little adventures that later got us into trouble. That had looked at me with arrogance, and love, and admiration, and lust and a hundred other things ever since I came back to court, ever since we were wed… God, how I've missed those eyes.

I take one step toward him, my arms outstretched and he crosses the rest of the distance between us, crushing me to his chest. I cling to him, my eyes burning with tears. He smells like metal and dust and sweat, and underneath it all _my _Francis; the smell that has now faded from his side of the bed. I hold him even tighter as if wanting to merge my body with his so we'd never be apart again. Before I know it hot tears are falling onto his naked skin.

"Mary…" He says softly, and tries to pull me away from him but I just shake my head. He kisses my hair, as if understanding , and hides in the crook of my neck as well.

"I missed you so much." I tell him passionately, but those words will never be enough to explain the endless days and restless nights. The feeling in the pit of my stomach that followed me every single second, that sick dread that threatened to eat me alive. The emptiness on his side of the bed, that I took to sleeping in because it held his scent, and how it took me hours to fall asleep because I thought where he would be sleeping or if he'd be sleeping at all. And even when I did succumb to sleep, my tired body clamoring for rest, it was only nightmares that awaited me, nightmares of watching the English march in to the castle, holding a pike with his head on it. I tremble at the memory, and he holds me closer if that's possible, whispering sweet nothings in my ear like he's done before.

"It's all right, I'm here...I'm here…" His hand smooths down my hair, over and over again, and he kisses my temple. "I love you." He whispers, and I whisper it back against his skin.

And we stand like this like this for a long time.


End file.
